


Bloodstains

by lostresidentevilpotter



Series: Crash Prequels [2]
Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-19 02:37:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19966645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostresidentevilpotter/pseuds/lostresidentevilpotter
Summary: Alicia could kill her, if she wants. She could shove her right out the van into the horde of the charred dead and watch them rip Al limb from limb. She could handle the backlash from the rest of the group. She could do it.Or, Alicia and Al have a moment after their fight in 4x08.





	Bloodstains

**Author's Note:**

> Now that Crash is over, I've finally finished the second prequel! I've had the first four pages or so sitting unfinished for like a month but here it is! This is a sequel to the first prequel, Not Safe, and events that occur in Not Safe are very much referred to here, so you may want to read that first to understand what's going on.
> 
> A little side note: I don't remember when exactly everyone became aware that June's name is in fact June and not Laura or Naomi, but I also don't care to go find out, so for simplicity's sake, she's June.

Alicia could kill her, if she wants. She could shove her right out the van into the horde of the charred dead and watch them rip Al limb from limb. She could handle the backlash from the rest of the group. She could do it. She has the strength and the upper hand. Alicia’s got Al’s arm secured down while her other hand presses Al’s face down toward the dead. They desperately try to claw at Al, at the food they see just out of their grasps.

There’s one that’s really close to getting its teeth in Al, and if Alicia only pushes down a little bit more –

Alicia’s eyes tear away from Al, baring her teeth as she resists Alicia’s hold and desperately attempts to keep herself away from the mouths of the dead. Alicia’s eyes land on the disgusting creatures, with their snapping jaws, full of rotting teeth, and their burnt flesh, and their _stink_ – and Alicia hesitates. She could push Al down enough to mortally wound her, but she hesitates. Alicia’s days have been blurring together for a while now, so she isn’t exactly sure how long it’s been since she laid out under the stars with Al after Nick died. Alicia had been the one to kiss Al, so why is she trying to feed her to the dead? Alicia’s really going to kill someone that wanted to help her just because that same woman happened to try to protect the kid that killed Nick?

Alicia’s tiny moment of hesitation lets Al land a fist square in Alicia’s chest, sending her backward into the passenger’s seat and leaving Alicia momentarily stunned. She recovers quickly enough, flinging herself into the back, where _the girl that murdered her brother_ cowers next to the injured John – and Alicia remembers why she’s even bothering to fight with Al in the first place.

She’s gonna kill that kid. That kid killed her brother, and at the same time, that kid made Alicia the last Clark. Charlie’s not a kid anymore. She’s a murderer, and she’s gonna pay. And if Al wants to get in the way – regardless of if Al and Alicia shared a moment after Nick died – then Al’s going to get what’s coming, too.

Before Alicia can get her hands on Charlie, Al seizes her by the arms and yanks her back with enough force to send them both sprawling to the ground. It’s only when Alicia hits the floor, propping herself up on her elbows, that she realizes how utterly exhausted she is. She breathes heavily, practically wheezing, and she’s lucky Al doesn’t immediately come at her, because she wouldn’t be able to defend herself. She just needs a moment to catch her breath. Just a moment.

Al snatches up Alicia’s gun barrel and holds it defensively, waving Charlie away from John. Charlie hides behind Al, and Al braces herself, waiting for Alicia’s next attack. But Alicia can’t bring herself to get up.

They haven’t talked about it. Al could literally murder Alicia right now, and all Alicia can think about is how she refused to let Al talk to her about how she’d kissed her. Alicia ran off, pretended to sleep in the van when Al returned, and pretended like nothing had happened when she woke up in the morning. Now here she is, sitting on the floor of the van, chest heaving, as Al stands over her with _her_ gun barrel, protecting Charlie. And Alicia’s eyes land on something that was thrown about the van during the scuffle.

Noodles. It’s the brand that gives it away. Instinctively, Alicia knows what it means. She knows it means Al met her mother somewhere along the way, and something in Alicia breaks. Her lower lip trembles, and she presses the heels of her hands against her eyes the moment the tears start falling. As if it wasn’t bad enough that Al got to witness the immediate aftermath of Nick’s death, now she gets to see Alicia entirely fall apart mere minutes after Alicia tried to kill her.

“Stay back, kid,” Al murmurs. Al nudges Charlie back, but she quickly moves to John’s side to try to stop the bleeding of his gunshot wound. Slowly, Al lowers the gun barrel to her side, but she doesn’t lower her defense. She takes a step toward Alicia. “Hey,” Al says cautiously. She falters. Rather than saying anything else, she drops into a crouch a few feet in front of Alicia. Alicia’s body racks with silent sobs, face buried in her hands, and Al isn’t sure of how to handle this.

It could be a trick. A ploy to get Al to let her guard down. Al startles when Alicia moves suddenly, but Alicia merely seizes one of the nearby containers of noodles and holds it out.

“What?” Al says. “You’re hungry?”

“No, you idiot,” Alicia hisses. “Where did you get these?”

The crying stops. Alicia swipes the tears away, like they were never there, and her eyes lock onto Al’s dumbfounded expression. For a moment, Alicia wants to smack the look right off Al’s face. She won’t get that far, she knows, so she doesn’t bother to try. Al answers the question, but it isn’t the answer Alicia wants, so she tosses the container of noodles aside and pushes herself to her feet.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” Al demands as Alicia shoves her out of the way and drops to her knees in front of Al’s currently wide open safe. Alicia doesn’t respond. She digs through the tapes until she comes up with the one labeled _Amina_ in neat, all uppercase letters. Alicia’s heart drops into her stomach, and she swallows hard.

“You knew her?” Alicia manages to squeak out. Her eyes shift up to Al’s face, but she can’t take staring at that dumbass look anymore. Al has no fucking clue what Alicia’s talking about. Why would she? “My mother,” Alicia clarifies. She flashes the name on the tape to Al, and recognition flickers on Al’s face.

“That’s your mom?” Al asks. “Look, Alicia, she didn’t tell me her own name, let alone yours. I didn’t – I didn’t know.”

Alicia inhales deeply, fingers curling around the tape. “Give me the camera,” Alicia whispers. “The camera!” she shouts when no one moves. Shakily, Charlie hands the camera to Al who passes it to Alicia. Alicia jams the tape in and starts it. She watches the entire thing on her knees in the middle of the van, surrounded by Al, Charlie, and John. Al steps around Alicia warily, grabbing more gauze to press to John’s wound.

“Stay with me,” Al says quietly. “The others – they’ll be back soon. You just need to hang on, John.”

“It’s okay,” John breathes.

“It’s not okay,” Al says through her teeth, applying more pressure as the blood begins to soak through the gauze. “Stay alive for June, then, if not for me.”

The Amina tape ends. Al’s head snaps in Alicia’s direction in case she tries anything now that the tape’s over, but Alicia stays frozen in place, clutching the camera in shaking hands. Al catches Charlie’s eye and motions for her to climb into the front. Just in case. But Alicia remains on her knees, whole body trembling, and Al thinks she even sees more tears fall.

“Hold that,” Al orders, pressing John’s hand against the gunshot wound. Al hesitates when her eyes fall on the blood coating both of her hands, but she wipes them on her pants then approaches Alicia. Al crouches in front of her once more, but Alicia doesn’t look up. Al holds her hand out, unable to conceal her surprise when Alicia hands the camera over. Al slowly removes the Amina tape and puts it back with the others. She returns the camera and the tapes to the safe, locks it, and sets her eyes on Alicia’s face.

Alicia’s lips move, forming silent words that Al can’t make out.

“Al,” Charlie calls from the front. “We’re surrounded.”

“Yeah, kid, I know,” Al replies. “I’ll deal with it after I make sure Alicia here’s not going to end your life, alright?”

“I won’t kill her,” Alicia says, startling Al. Al nearly falls from her crouched position onto her ass but manages to correct her balance at the last second. “At least, not now.”

Al nods. “Okay. That’s a start.” She spares a glance at John. “Hey, John,” Al says. “You alright, buddy?” She claps him on the shoulder, scares him out of his trance, but he can hardly look up at Al. Alicia gets to her feet, slowly, so Al won’t put her on her ass. “Help me with him,” Al commands. “It’s still bleeding.”

“We’re surrounded,” Alicia says numbly.

Al exhales, and a lock of her hair falls in her eyes. She swipes at it impatiently, unable to keep an irritated look off her face as she says, “We’re basically in a tank, Alicia. Being surrounded is a secondary problem. John is the primary problem right now.” Al grabs a fistful of gauze pads and presses them against John’s gunshot wound. He makes a small sound in the back of his throat, but Al doesn’t let up on the pressure. She doesn’t like the amount of blood oozing out of the wound that’s already been bleeding for far too long.

“What do we do?” Charlie frets, turning her eyes from the dead clawing at the van from the outside back to Al, Alicia, and John.

“Alicia, get the walkie,” Al says. “Tell Morgan and June to get out here. Your vendetta is going to have to wait, unless you think John deserves to die from the bullet you shot him with.”

Alicia flinches and quickly turns away from Al, scooping up the walkie. “They won’t listen to me,” Alicia says, thrusting the walkie against Al’s chest. Al catches it with the hand that isn’t holding the gauze to John’s wound. “They’ll think it’s a trap.”

“You made me tell them at gunpoint that it was safe earlier,” Al reminds. “It’s not like they’re really going to believe me, either.” She shoves the walkie back at Alicia. “You shot him. You fix this,” she snarls.

Alicia blinks, expression blank as ever but emotions swirl in her eyes, and she holds down the button. “Morgan? It’s Alicia. John needs your help. Badly. You need to come out here.”

There’s a long pause before Morgan responds. “Okay,” he says. “There’s just one problem.”

“We’re surrounded,” Alicia says for him. “We know.”

“Can you clear some of them?”

Alicia sighs and peers out the window. “Yeah,” she answers. “I’ll get on it.”

She drops the walkie onto the seats beside John and grabs her gun barrel. She half expects Al to tackle her or something, but Al only watches as Alicia flings the driver’s side door open and kills the dead from above. One after the other. Charlie shifts into the back with John and Al again as Alicia takes out the dead, and Al has Charlie take over for her.

“Just hold it,” Al instructs. “Apply as much pressure as you can. Got it?”

“Yeah,” Charlie says. “I got it.”

“Morgan and June should be here soon,” Al assures her, grasping her shoulder briefly. She joins Alicia up front as Alicia bangs the barrel against the side of the van, drawing more of the dead toward her.

“This is harder with you breathing down my neck,” Alicia snaps. The gun barrel goes through the skull of another dead.

“You haven’t seen breathing down your neck yet, sweetheart,” Al quips. “Come on. I can take over.”

“I got it,” Alicia mutters.

“Alicia –”

Al reaches, and Alicia immediately whips around, brandishing the bloodstained barrel, freshly coated with the brains of her latest kill. “Don’t,” Alicia hisses, “touch me.”

The thing is, Al hadn’t touched her. She just reached. Al pulls her hand back, though, holding both up in surrender. Alicia glares at her for a long moment before she turns back around and spears herself another kill.

“Al,” Charlie cries. “It won’t stop bleeding!”

“Morgan’s coming,” Al reassures her. “He’s on his way.”

She doesn’t actually know that. For all she knows, Morgan’s been killed by the dead in the last couple minutes. Al spots movement in the stadium, though, so she figures he really is on his way and she didn’t just lie to the kid.

“Just keep applying pressure,” Al adds. Alicia knocks the barrel against the van again, metal on metal, but nothing makes its way to the doorway. Alicia pokes her head out the door then starts to climb out. Al thinks better of physically stopping her and instead flings her own door open, pulling her trench spike from her jacket. Al needs it almost immediately, sending the spike through the eye socket of the dead that’s right outside her door, but once it drops, Al realizes it’s the only one on her side of the van. Al rushes around the back of the van to the driver’s side, and Alicia stands amongst the burned bodies.

Nothing moves.

“They’re dead,” Alicia informs.

Al falters. “I – yeah. They’re dead.”

“Tell Morgan.”

“Charlie!” Al shouts. “Tell Morgan it’s safe!”

Faintly, they hear Charlie relay the message to Morgan and June, and moments later, Morgan and June emerge from the stadium, hauling medical supplies. They barely spare Al and Alicia a glance, going straight into the back of the van to help John, leaving Al and Alicia alone with the bodies. Alicia wipes the barrel clean on a shirt of one of the dead, but her hands are still coated with blood. Brain matter. It’s splattered on her face and neck, soaked into her shirt. But she’s too damn focused on that barrel to notice.

“Alicia,” Al says. She takes a risk, tucking the trench spike back into her jacket and stepping forward. “You’re covered in blood,” she points out. She keeps her movements slow, her hands visible. Alicia’s eyes track everything Al does, from where she steps to the way her hands tremble ever so slightly. Mostly, though, Alicia’s eyes bore into Al’s up until Al’s close enough to touch her. She doesn’t. She keeps her hands to herself. Alicia holds the barrel at her side, slender fingers looped through the holes.

“So?” Alicia finally says. Al’s eyes drop to Alicia’s lips, to the trickle of blood running from her lower lip toward her jaw. For a moment, Al thinks the blood belongs to the dead, but she realizes it’s a fresh wound, probably due to Alicia biting down on her lower lip at some point. Alicia grimaces and turns her head to the side, spitting blood onto one of the many bodies littering the grass around them. Her lip continues to bleed, her blood mingling with the blood of the dead on her face.

Alicia had kissed her. Al hasn’t forgotten, and she’d be lying if she said she hasn’t thought back to it – and to Alicia’s utter refusal to acknowledge she’d done it – more than once. The memory resurfaces because Al realizes her eyes have been on Alicia’s lips for way too long. But even so, Al continues to stare at Alicia with her jaw slack, and Alicia blinks.

“You’re staring,” Alicia says.

Al regains control of her jaw, snaps it shut. “You’re wearing way too much blood,” Al says, swallowing hard. “Come on. I bet I have something you can change into.”

“I don’t want your clothes.”

“Yeah, well tough shit,” Al replies. “You’re low on options.” Al pauses. “And you’re bleeding.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s fine.”

Alicia spits blood again. Maybe she’d bitten down on the inside of her lip? Alicia winces, her tongue prodding at her lower lip, and she spits blood a third time before motioning for Al to return to the van. Al climbs back up, but Alicia lingers outside.

“You coming?” Al asks.

“No,” Alicia says flatly. “Get me something to wear.”

“My pants won’t fit you.”

“My pants are just fine,” Alicia replies. She looks down at herself. “It’s just my shirt. I think.”

Al nods and returns with a clean shirt and a towel. She shuts the doors behind her, closing John, Charlie, Morgan, and June inside. Alicia drops the barrel to the grass and shamelessly strips off her bloodied shirt. The blood splattered on her face and neck has run down to her chest, drying on the swells of her breasts. Not that Al’s looking. She hands the towel to Alicia silently and averts her gaze to somewhere safe. The numerous dead bodies spread across the ground. The sky. The gun barrel at their feet.

Alicia spits again, but it’s only tinged with blood this time, and Al’s eyes flick up to Alicia’s face. She’s wiped as much of the blood as possible from her face and neck, just getting started on her chest, and Alicia meets Al’s gaze when she realizes she’s being stared at.

“What?” Alicia questions.

“You’ve been spitting a lot of blood,” Al says. “Let me look at it.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding.”

“Back off,” Alicia warns, “or the next time I spit, it’ll be in your face.”

One side of Al’s mouth tugs up into a humorless smile and drops quickly. “I’ll kill you,” Al replies. “If your spit gets on me.”

Alicia’s eyebrows quirk upward, but if she’s going to say something, she keeps it inside for the time being. She pointedly wipes at the blood on her chest, but it’s more dried on than the rest. She’s going to need water to get it off.

“My spit already got on you,” Alicia finally says, lowering the towel to her side. She stands in front of Al in a bra, blood beginning to dry all over her chest, and she adds, “So I guess you’re going to have to kill me.” At Al’s dumbfounded look, Alicia says, “I kissed you, remember?”

Al recovers quickly and retorts, “I was under the impression that you were pretending that never happened.”

“I am,” Alicia says coolly.

Al nods curtly. “Can you put that shirt on now?”

“I’m still covered in blood.” Alicia prods at her chest with her fingertips, watching how they stick to the mostly dried blood.

“I’ll get you some water,” Al says.

Right as Al turns her back to Alicia, Alicia says, “I was sleep deprived, you know.”

“Huh?” Al twists her head back around, hand grasping at the handle of the van.

“When I kissed you,” Alicia mumbles. “I was sleep deprived.”

“Ah,” Al says. “Do you always kiss people when you’re sleep deprived?”

Alicia shoots her a glare. “I make bad decisions,” she snaps.

Al shrugs. “Whatever you need to tell yourself, Alicia.”

Before she opens the door, Alicia surges forward and grabs Al by the wrist, yanking her away from the van. Al’s eyebrows raise as Alicia scowls and clutches onto Al’s wrist, and Al resists the urge to shake her arm free.

“Nick had just died,” Alicia hisses, “and I was sleep deprived. I made a bad decision, and I’m sorry for dragging you into this mess, okay?”

Now Al shakes her wrist free of Alicia’s grasp. “You need to clean up,” Al says.

“So you’re just going to ignore it?”

“We’re pretending it never happened, remember?” Al says wryly.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you almost sound…” Alicia trails off and attempts to think of the right word.

“Sound what?”

“Bitter?” Alicia says.

Al rolls her eyes. “I have bigger problems, Alicia,” she says. “Your brother died, I was an ass about it, and I’m sorry. You apologized, I apologized, and now I think it’s best we just pretend it never happened, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Alicia agrees. “Once you stop looking at my chest.”

An indignant look crosses Al’s face. “Your chest,” Al says pointedly, waving her hand over her own for emphasis, “is covered in the blood of all the dead you just singlehandedly slaughtered, and it’s disgusting. Excuse me.”

Alicia grabs Al’s wrist again, and Al whips back around, teeth bared, but Alicia’s lower lip trembles. Al forces herself to relax, eyes searching Alicia’s face. Alicia’s lips are stained with blood – her own, thankfully. Alicia’s green eyes are dull, though that’s not really anything new, but the growing wetness in them is. 

“What?” Al says quietly.

“I’m sorry,” Alicia says. She inhales sharply, blinks back the forming tears before they have a chance to fall, and shakes her head. “Really. I just – I fuck everything up.”

“That’s not –”

“I shot John,” Alicia interrupts. “A man who didn’t do anything to me. I shot him to get back at June, and he could die, and it’ll be my fault. If I’d been smarter, my mom wouldn’t have died, and neither would Nick. I’d still have my family.”

Al’s eyebrows pull together. “Wait, your mom – Amina? – is _dead_?”

Alicia hesitates. “Her name was Madison,” she informs. “She sacrificed herself to save me, Nick, Victor, and Luci when the stadium fell.” Alicia’s eyes flicker toward the stadium, and she flinches. She exhales heavily, fingers knotted in the bloodstained towel. “I’m guessing you don’t want this back,” she says.

“Toss it,” Al says softly. “But not right this second. You’re going to need it to dry yourself off.”

Alicia nods. “The point was,” she adds, “I fuck everything up. Hell, I nearly killed you. All so I could kill the kid.”

“The kid’s fine, and so am I,” Al says. She doesn’t know why she’s trying to make Alicia feel better. Alicia _did_ try to kill her – and she almost succeeded, too. Al was inches away from a fatal wound from one of those charred fuckers. If Alicia hadn’t let up just enough to give her an opening –

“You protected her,” Alicia says.

“She’s a kid,” Al replies. “She made a mistake – a mistake that ruined your life, yeah, but a mistake nonetheless. And I don’t know about you, but I’ve done some bad shit myself. And I’m guessing you have, too, based on the fact that you shot John and tried to feed me to the dead.”

“Yeah.”

Al manages a smile. “No hard feelings, okay? We do what we think we need to do to survive.”

“That’s –” Alicia cuts herself off and shakes her head. “That doesn’t even make sense,” she mutters.

“Your brother’s dead,” Al says. It isn’t harsh, just a statement of fact. And as she says it, whether she knows it or not, Al’s eyes soften along with the rest of her expression. “And so is your mom,” Al adds. “And John could be dead by the end of the night, and so could we. You thought killing the kid would ease the pain. And maybe it would. But I’m glad you didn’t go through me first to find out.”

“Me too,” Alicia admits. She winces, but Al grins and throws Alicia a wink the moment she catches her eye.

“Stay here,” Al says. “I’ll be right back.”

True to her word, Al returns quickly with a bottle of water in hand. She cracks the cap off, takes a swig first, then hands the bottle over as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. Alicia chooses not to comment and splashes water onto her chest, using the towel to rub the mostly dried blood from her skin. Al leans back against the van, arms crossed over her chest, one foot braced back on the van.

“Did I miss any spots?” Alicia asks.

“Is that an invitation to stare at your chest?”

Alicia rolls her eyes. “Did I miss any spots or not?”

Alicia fidgets as Al’s eyes graze over her body. She turns her head one way then the other when Al tells her to, and Al taps a spot on her own neck to demonstrate. Alicia can’t locate it on herself, though, and Al pushes away from the van, holding her hands out.

“Here,” she says gently. “Let me get it.”

Alicia hands Al the water and the towel, and Al pours some of the water on the towel and rubs at the spot of blood beneath Alicia’s jaw. A smile flickers on Alicia’s face as she watches the intense look of concentration on Al’s face even though she’s just wiping blood away.

“Got it,” Al declares.

Alicia nods. “I think the blood’s in my bra.”

Al pauses. “That sounds like a personal problem, Clark.”

Alicia cracks a smile. “I mean, with how much you’ve been staring the past ten minutes, you might as well go for it.”

“If you’re trying to embarrass me, it won’t work,” Al replies, grinning lopsidedly. “I have no shame left. The world ended. If I want to stare at boobs, I’m gonna stare at boobs.”

“Unwanted staring counts as sexual harassment, doesn’t it?”

Al shrugs. “I don’t know. I never had a normal job, so I never underwent formal sexual harassment training.”

“I worked at this restaurant,” Alicia says. “And the manager always stared at my ass. I’m pretty sure it’s sexual harassment.”

“Yeah, but was your manager as hot as I am? Probably not. I bet he was an old creeper, right?”

Alicia snorts and covers her hand with her mouth. “He was,” she says, “but hotness doesn’t excuse it!”

“I didn’t say it did,” Al chuckles. “I was making a bad joke. But you definitely do have more blood on your chest, too. I just wasn’t going to offer to get it for you.”

“You’re still staring,” Alicia says in disbelief.

“It’s hard not to when someone takes their shirt off in front of you and has blood literally everywhere,” Al says. “It’s not even really a sexual thing. It’s just gross.”

Alicia rolls her eyes. “You’re gross.”

“Well, you kissed me, so who’s really the gross one?” Al challenges. Alicia’s face heats up, and Al grins and clucks her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “Gotcha,” Al says. “You want to talk about unwanted staring being sexual harassment? Try kissing someone without consent.”

“You could’ve stopped me,” Alicia grumbles. Her face blazes red, so she stares down at her own chest and makes a halfhearted effort to clean off the last few patches of blood, mostly hiding beneath her bra.

“Yeah,” Al agrees. “I could have.”

“But you didn’t.”

“But I didn’t.”

“Why?” Alicia asks.

“Now you want to talk about it?” Al questions. “I thought we agreed –”

“God, just answer the question, Al.”

Al holds her hands up in surrender. “I didn’t mind,” she says. She flashes a quick smile and adds, “It’s been a while since I’ve gotten any action.”

Alicia huffs. “Same here.” Alicia pauses. “That doesn’t mean anything, so don’t get any ideas.”

“What kind of ideas?” Al says, feigning innocence. “I mean, it’s the end of the world. You could do worse than me.”

“Not by much.”

“Ouch,” Al says, touching her palm to her chest. “That really hurt me, deep in here somewhere.”

Alicia waves her off. “Turn around so I can make sure I’ve actually gotten all the blood.”

“I bet Morgan can see you from the window.”

Alicia considers this then turns her back to the van instead. Al, for her part, faces the van until she hears the towel and empty bottle hit the ground. Al turns back just as Alicia’s sliding into one of Al’s shirts. Al was generous, too, forking over one of her favorite flannels even though Alicia’s likely to drench it in blood before long.

“Try not to get any blood on that shirt, yeah?” Al says softly. “I like that one.”

Alicia hesitates. “I’ll do my best,” she agrees. She has to roll the sleeves to keep her hands free, and she picks up the gun barrel from the ground. “Thanks,” Alicia adds, awkwardly rubbing at the back of her neck. “For, um, yeah. Just thanks.”

Al nods and jerks her head toward the van. “C’mon,” she says. “It’s going to be dark soon.”

Same as when Nick died, Alicia finds herself unable to sleep. Same as when Nick died, Alicia slips out of the van without waking John, June, Morgan, or Charlie. Alicia takes special care to ensure Al’s asleep, too, and based on the way her jaw’s hanging open, Alicia supposes Al’s out. No one can fake an expression as unattractive yet simultaneously kind of adorable as that. Alicia shakes that thought off quickly, takes the gun barrel for security, and steps down onto the pavement.

She doesn’t feel safe. Not that she ever does, but they didn’t drive too far from the stadium because of John’s condition, and Alicia’s certain the day’s commotion probably drew the attention of all the dead for miles. She hooks the barrel on her belt, but she keeps her hand against the cool metal. She takes a few steps away from the van, her whole body on high alert as she listens for anything that sounds unusual. Crickets, mostly. Beyond that, utter silence.

Just as Alicia steps off the road and onto the grass, Al calls, “Sneaking off again? Don’t you remember what happened last time?”

“Jesus!” Alicia exclaims. She spins around, instinctively pulling the barrel off her belt even though it’s just Al, and she clutches onto it so tightly that her hands don’t have the opportunity to shake. “You were asleep!” Alicia hisses. “How did you know I was out here?”

“I know when people come and go from my van.”

“I was quiet.”

Al shrugs. “I still just know. Call it a skill.”

“But you were asleep,” Alicia says weakly. “I checked.”

“And I woke up,” Al says. “It isn’t rocket science, Alicia.”

“Why did you follow me anyway?” Alicia grumbles. “Last time I ended up kissing you. Are you hoping for another shot with me or something?”

Al cracks a smile. “While that sounds incredibly appealing, I think I’ll pass.” She pauses, jams her hands into her pockets. “Do you want me to go back in? I can go lie down and pretend like I’m asleep until you come back.”

Alicia inhales deeply, enjoying the woodsy scent the light breeze carries, and exhales. “You can do what you want,” Alicia answers. “I’m not your mother.”

“Do you want me here or not?” Al asks bluntly. “It’s a yes or no answer.”

“Maybe I don’t have a preference.”

“I’ll take that as a no,” Al says. “Don’t die out here, or Morgan will have my ass.”

“Wait,” Alicia says before Al reopens the back of the van and risks waking someone. “Just stay. You’re already here.”

“What a thoughtful invitation,” Al quips. She crosses over to stand next to Alicia and wriggles something free from her waistband. “And here. I never gave this back.”

She slaps Alicia’s Glock into Alicia’s palm, and for a long while, Alicia stares down at it. Eventually, she shoves it into her own waistband, but the weight of the gun makes her feel guilty. She’d held Al at gunpoint with that Glock, the sharp end of the barrel held against Charlie’s throat. Alicia swallows hard at the memory, at how Al managed to knock the Glock from her hand and send them tumbling into the front seats. And here’s that Glock now, pressed against Alicia’s bare skin beneath her pants. Alicia shudders and crosses her arms over her chest. She unrolls the sleeves of Al’s flannel and pulls her hands into the fabric. The light breeze doesn’t feel as refreshing anymore.

“Do you want it?” Alicia blurts.

“What?”

“The gun,” she clarifies. “Do you want it?”

“No,” Al says, mostly in confusion. “Why?”

“I don’t want it. I mean, I don’t really need it, either.”

“It’s good to keep it on you. For emergencies,” Al says.

“So you have one?”

“Somewhere,” Al dismisses. “I’m a terrible shot with pistols, usually. I stick to rifles.”

“Or your fists.”

Al rolls her eyes. “I don’t use my _bare_ fists.”

“Yet.”

Al grins and shakes her head. “Last resort only,” she admits. “And I haven’t had to do it yet, but hey, you’d punch the dead too if it came down to it.” Al pauses. “Why are you really out here, Alicia?”

“I can’t take it,” she says. “Being holed up in that van with everyone. Especially since I shot John. It’s my fault.”

“We’ve all done shit,” Al says. “He’s alive.”

“For now.”

“He’ll live,” Al assures her. “He’s in good hands. Trust me.”

“Did you just imply that June has good hands?”

“She’s a nurse,” Al says. “That’s all I meant.”

A smile flickers on Alicia’s face, and she stares down at her boots. At the grass. “I was sleep deprived,” Alicia says. “When I kissed you. That wasn’t a lie.”

“I figured. Are you sleep deprived again?”

“That’s the thing,” Alicia says, shooting Al an amused smile, “I’m always sleep deprived.”

“So you’re sleep deprived right now?”

Alicia snorts. “Definitely. But I know you aren’t. You were sleeping with your mouth wide open.”

“Don’t judge how I sleep,” Al says. “At least I’m sleeping regularly.”

“You got me there,” Alicia mutters. “Are you cold?”

“No.”

“It’s kind of cold,” Alicia complains.

Al shrugs off her jacket and pushes it into Alicia’s chest. “You can’t keep that,” Al says sternly. “That’s my favorite jacket, and if anything happens to it –”

Alicia shoves the jacket back into Al’s arms. “I can’t take that,” she says.

“Why not?”

“I’m already wearing your shirt,” Alicia says. “And I tried to kill you today. So keep your jacket. I’ll be fine.”

Al, surprisingly, puts her jacket back on without further argument. She fixes the collar so it lays properly and slides her hands into the jacket’s pockets. Alicia half expects Al to say something, but she just stares off into the distance. Alicia glances in Al’s general line of sight, but it’s just grass and trees ahead of them. Stars up in the sky, Alicia supposes, but Al’s eyes aren’t lifted upward.

“You know,” Al finally says, “it’s okay.”

“What is?”

“The fact that you tried to kill me. I won’t hold it over you.”

“You should.”

“Look, I get it,” Al says. “Under the right circumstances, I know I could be the one trying to feed someone else to the dead. So I won’t hold it over you, but maybe don’t do it again, okay?”

Alicia manages a smile, but it fades quickly. She shifts, accidentally bumping her arm into Al’s, and only then does she realize how close they’re standing. If Alicia juts her elbow out, it’ll be resting against Al’s arm.

“How’s your lip?” Al asks suddenly. “Did it stop bleeding?”

“Yeah,” Alicia says. “I just bit down on it, I guess. It’s fine.”

Al nods, wearing this look on her face that’s akin to one you’d wear if you were staring at the world’s most complex math problem. She doesn’t say anything, though, just stares off into the trees some more, and Alicia uncrosses her arms. Slowly. All of her movements are slow, particularly when she reaches over and hooks her arm through Al’s. Al’s hand stays in her pocket, and her only reaction is her eyes flicking over to Alicia’s face then quickly returning to the trees.

Minutes pass. They feel like hours, maybe, but Alicia’s pretty sure it’s a couple of minutes at the most. Then Al inhales deeply and asks, “Why are you holding onto me?”

“I’m sleep deprived,” Alicia says softly. “I make bad decisions when I’m sleep deprived.”

Al’s lack of response unsettles Alicia. Alicia had literally straddled Al earlier, had her by the throat – granted, she was trying to kill her, but still – and now she’s got her arm linked through Al’s and her stomach’s exploding with so many butterflies that she can barely think coherently. It doesn’t make sense.

The last girl Alicia had a crush on was Ofelia Salazar. The last crush Alicia had on a girl _before_ Ofelia Salazar doesn’t even count, because it was a celebrity. And Alicia has never dated a girl – never even seriously considered dating a girl. When she’d first gotten accepted to Berkeley, she had her whole life planned out. A wedding was included in that plan, and Alicia always pictured marrying a man. Sure, she’s known she’s attracted to women, but she’s never given it _serious_ thought. Now here she is, standing on the side of the road with a woman she barely knows, thinking about her attraction to women. While she’s holding onto that woman’s arm. Nice. Exactly the situation Alicia wanted to put herself in.

Alicia reminds herself that she’s already kissed Al, so what’s the big deal about linking their arms together? They’ve swapped spit, which makes Al the first person Alicia’s kissed since Jake, but Alicia would rather not think about that.

Al pulls her hand free of her pocket, and Alicia acts out of instinct, grabbing onto it and stilling Al’s movement. Now Al turns to look at her, eyebrows raised, before Al pointedly sets her gaze on their hands.

“What?” Alicia says defensively.

“I had an itch,” Al replies, tugging Alicia’s hand closer to her as she uses her fingertips to scratch at her side. Alicia releases her hold on Al’s hand but can’t unlink their arms yet. “You’re a little jumpy, Clark,” Al observes. “Something got you on edge?”

“It just – it doesn’t feel safe out here,” Alicia lies. She clears her throat and frees her arm from Al’s, letting it fall at her side. “It’s too quiet.”

“The quiet’s kind of nice.”

“It’s spooky.”

Al’s eyes lock on Alicia’s face, and before Alicia can ask her what she’s staring for, Al grins and says, “You’re getting a little red, Alicia. Something going on that you want to talk about? Or are you always this bad of a liar?”

“What – what could I be lying about?” Alicia splutters.

Al snaps her fingers, and Alicia startles. Al points at her, smirks, and says, “You’re lying about why you’re so fucking jumpy.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Alicia replies.

“Come on,” Al presses. “So you can kiss me but you can’t tell me what’s on your mind?”

Al turns her whole body to face Alicia and plants her hands on her hips, grinning. Her hair falls into her eyes, and she doesn’t bother to fix it yet.

“Kissing someone is easy,” Alicia dismisses. “Talking is…”

“Talking is hard,” Al finishes. “Which is why you didn’t let me talk after you kissed me. You ran away.”

“I didn’t want you to waste time and effort,” Alicia says, “over something that didn’t matter.”

Al’s eyebrows quirk up briefly, and she gives a slight shrug. “Words matter,” Al says. “The truth matters. And if you ask me, actions convey unspoken words.”

“Don’t try to psychoanalyze me right now,” Alicia cuts in. “My mother was a guidance counselor, so I know what you’re trying to do.”

“Have some kind of genuine human connection?”

“That’s not what you’re doing,” Alicia scoffs. “You’re doing your obnoxiously curious journalist shtick.”

“Shtick?”

“Can we just be quiet?” Alicia bursts. “Please?”

“Not until you stop lying to me.”

Al finally pushes her hair out of her eyes as Alicia meets her gaze. “I don’t know what you want me to say,” Alicia admits.

“Something that’s not a lie.”

“You’re annoying.”

“Ouch,” Al laughs. “But that’s also a lie. I’m annoying you right now, but I know I’m not an annoying person.”

“You always annoy me. Maybe that’s why I tried to kill you,” Alicia says wryly.

“You also kissed me, so your theory has some flaws.”

“You’re never going to let me forget that I kissed you in a moment of – a moment of –”

“Vulnerability?” Al suggests.

“ _Weakness_ ,” Alicia hisses.

“Is that what you want?” Al asks quietly. “To forget it?” Alicia opens her mouth to respond, but Al adds, “And don’t answer that question with some bullshit.”

Alicia thinks for a moment then shakes her head. “I don’t know,” she says. “I don’t know what I want.”

“That’s understandable.”

“Do you want to forget it?” Alicia asks.

Al hesitates. “I don’t know,” she says. “But I think we shouldn’t tell the others it happened.”

“Agreed,” Alicia says.

“So are you going to tell me what’s bothering you? Or why you’re so jumpy?”

“I told you I’m jumpy because it’s too quiet.”

“And that’s a load of shit, Alicia.”

Alicia inhales sharply. Her hands curl into fists at her sides, but she forces them to unclench. “I don’t like women,” Alicia blurts. Al’s eyebrows raise, and her lips part, but she seems to be at a genuine loss for words. Unfortunately for Alicia, Al’s silence draws more words out of her mouth. “I mean, I’ve been attracted to women before, but I’ve never – I don’t date women, I don’t – I don’t _like_ women. I mean, I like them, but in like a weird abstract way.”

Al laughs and nods, pressing her lips together. “And you’re telling me this because…?”

“Because that’s what’s bothering me,” Alicia says.

“I don’t know what to say,” Al admits. “Because the way you kissed me kind of suggested that maybe you like women.”

Alicia’s face flushes, and her teeth sink into her lower lip. She taps her fingers against her thigh, stares anywhere but at Al’s face even though Al’s gaze is piercing.

“And that’s what’s bothering me,” Alicia whispers.

“That’s what you’re standing here thinking about?”

“Yep.”

Al nods, but she must sense that Alicia’s telling the truth. “Well,” Al says, “on the bright side, the world ended, so those kinds of things don’t really matter too much anymore, do they?”

“No. Not really.”

Al cracks a smile. “So I’m totally the first woman you’ve ever kissed then?”

Alicia rolls her eyes. “Yeah,” she grunts.

“I’m honored,” Al jokes, touching her palm to her chest. “Especially because you only like women as an abstract concept.”

Alicia’s teeth slip on her lower lip, and she accidentally nicks the spot she’d bitten earlier. Her mouth fills with the taste of iron, and she makes a face and spits into the grass. “Damn it,” she says.

“You okay?” Al asks, instantly dropping her joking demeanor. She reaches over and tilts Alicia’s chin up, eyes searching her face until she spots the blood flecking Alicia’s lower lip. She holds Alicia’s chin between her index finger and thumb, and Alicia stares unabashedly at the concerned look on Al’s face.

“I’m fine,” Alicia says cautiously. Her tongue darts out and swipes at the blood, and she grimaces. “It’ll stop in a minute. You can let go of my face.”

“Right,” Al says, releasing her. “Sorry.”

Alicia waves her off. “What were you saying?”

“I don’t know. Some smartass thing about your attraction to women.”

“I heard it,” Alicia says. “I was just going to ignore it.”

“And then you started bleeding.”

“And then I started bleeding,” Alicia agrees. She spits again, hoping to erase the taste of blood from her mouth, and then Al’s offering her a flask. “What’s in that?” Alicia asks.

“Find out.”

Alicia accepts the flask and takes a tentative sip. She chokes, and Al quickly snatches the flask back before Alicia can drop it. “Why would you hand me vodka when I’m bleeding?” Alicia coughs.

Al shrugs. “It’ll clean that wound out for you.”

“It _burns_.”

“That’s good.”

Alicia stares at Al in disbelief. “Why are you carrying a flask full of vodka on you anyway?”

Al grins. “For emergencies. Obviously.”

“Right. Obviously.”

“Sorry,” Al says, and it doesn’t even bother Alicia that the apology is completely insincere. “We can go back to having, like, a serious conversation. You kind of seemed like you wanted to talk about your sort of attraction to women.”

“No, I don’t want to talk about it,” Alicia says. “And I definitely don’t want the others catching wind of my shit.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

Alicia nods. “Can I ask you something personal?”

“Sure.” Al flashes a quick smile. “But I can’t guarantee I’ll answer it.”

“You’re into women?”

“Yes,” Al says. “That was barely a personal question, Clark, and I’m kind of offended that you felt the need to ask it.”

“Just making sure,” Alicia mumbles.

“Why?”

“How’d you know?”

Al shrugs. “I don’t know. I just knew.”

Alicia nods, but she doesn’t hide her dissatisfaction from her face. “Can I try something?”

“Above the waist only,” Al quips. When Alicia scowls, Al adds, “I was joking.” Alicia hesitates for so long that Al raises her eyebrows and waves her hand in front of Alicia’s face. “You there?” Al asks.

“Can I kiss you?” Alicia asks abruptly. “You gave me shit for not asking for consent –”

“Yes.”

Alicia cuts herself off and surges forward, reaching up for the back of Al’s neck. She pushes one hand into Al’s hair and simultaneously pulls her down and brings their lips together. Alicia’s vaguely aware of Al’s hands landing at her waist, thumbs digging into her sides, but Alicia’s heart is in her throat, her blood’s rushing in her ears, and she’s having a hard time focusing. Al’s lips are insistent, and at first, Alicia struggles to keep up, tightening her hold on Al’s hair. This time, when Al’s fingers slip beneath the material of Alicia’s shirt – well, really it’s Al’s shirt – Alicia doesn’t pull away. She pulls closer.

Al’s hands glide across Alicia’s lower back, cool against Alicia’s warm skin. Alicia grabs a fistful of Al’s shirt near Al’s shoulder and holds on tight. Otherwise, she’s afraid her knees will give out. She shifts back, just for a moment, in an attempt to catch her breath, but Al pushes back in, freeing one of her hands from under Alicia’s shirt and cupping the back of her head instead.

Alicia presses her fist against Al’s shoulder to break them apart so she can gasp, “I think I lied about only liking women as an abstract concept.”

“I know,” Al murmurs.

“Don’t say anything to the others,” Alicia breathes.

“Yeah,” Al agrees.

Alicia pulls Al back in.

**Author's Note:**

> I promise I have not forgotten about When It's All Over. I will get on it very soon!
> 
> Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments, and I'll respond as quickly as possible!


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